I’m Not Sure If I Even Like You (HIATUS)
by Lexxwonder
Summary: Eleanor Maddox is officially a woman on the run... again. But, she thanks her lucky stars when long-time friend, Damon Salvatore, calls with a favor and a place to stay. So, now she’s here in Mystic Falls to help. But, Damon never said anything about constantly trying to kill pretty, funny, entertaining blue-eyed hybrids. Funny how it’s always the fine print that gets you.
1. One

"She was a wild child; always stealing the stars and getting drunk on the souls of earthbound."

\- H. Lynn

Chapter One: A Salvatore Calls

It is a bright and beautiful morning. The sun shines brightly, there's a soft autumn breeze in the air. The small town of Mystic Falls was slowly slipping out of it's morning lull into the upbeat rhythm of the day. "Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel blasts loudly from the top-down Mustang convertible, and a small pleased smile graces my lips as I mouth along to the words. Truly, I couldn't think of a better time to be driving.

That's right. Your girl is on the move once again.

It was a strange experience to once again ditch my entire life, especially considering I'd originally promised myself that I wouldn't have to again, but that's life. Things didn't always work out well for me, in general, so I shouldn't have been surprised that I had to use evasive maneuvers.

It still hurt, though.

Sighing at the reminder, I readjust my sun visor as I turn right into the small town center, just starting to bustle with life. A sudden rumble from my stomach lets me know that I require sustenance before linking up with my.. _friend..?_

_Does Damon Salvatore ever count as 'just a friend'?_

Who knew?

I turned down what looks like the Main Street of Mystic Falls, an adorable sprawl of shops and restaurants ranging from a shabby-chic furniture store to a bustling green restaurant with a large sign stating 'Mystic Grill.' The people were smiling, waving to each other in a neighborly way, and I'm happily reminded why I like towns so much. _It's in the friendly charm of it all._

The fact that half of these people probably don't like each other is briefly humorous, making me smile for split second before I turned into the Grill's parking lot. I quickly adjust my outfit, smoothing out as many wrinkles as possible.

First impressions are important, and I'm going to be meeting some _very _important people today!

Stepping outside of the car after raising my convertible's roof up, I quickly grab onto my Chanel clutch before turning to pull down the sun visor to double check myself in it's mirror.

My dark, thick curly twists down to just above my lower back, framing my face in adorably frizzy turns curved over in a bang over my forehead. My golden honey skin is doppled by some scattered freckles across my nose and cheeks. I look a little wind blown, but it's not a bad look for the new girl. _Oh, this is so exciting!_

Blinking into my reflection's matching brown eyes, I blow a quick strand back into place before gasping at what I catch in the mirror.

Grabbing the edge of my tank top, I groan loudly at the small hole in it. My ensemble was effectively ruined. I'm about to throw myself a great big pity party, at least, I _was _until I catch a flash of white in my rear view mirror, winking at me from my still-open duffel bag.

_Oh my God, it's brilliant. It's gorgeous. It's so iconic that I can't believe this wasn't my original outfit._

Hopping into the backseat for the privacy that comes with tinted windows, I quickly switch out tops and smile as I look down. _Now, there's the ticket._

If there was one way to describe my sense of fashion recently, it was this: _Clueless._ A good friend of mine had shown it to me about four years ago, clearly seeing that I was severely lacking without the darling film in my life. My newfound adoration for the film is bluntly obvious when others eventually see what I'm wearing.

An adorable red and black tartan mini midi skirt hugs my thighs, cutting off at about the halfway point. Sheer stockings cling to my legs, gliding down to black velvet Mary Jane heels. To offset revealing my legs so much, the black long sleeved turtleneck from the bowels of the duffel is perfect.

Plus, it's a crop top, so I don't even have to tuck it in! _Fashion wins._ And of course, there was the adorable matching tartan jacket. I had originally cut the arms into a short sleeve cuff since they were too short on my lengthy arms, and I hadn't been able to go to my cleaners for adjustments, so I made do.

Still super cute, though.

A small golden necklace dangles underneath the collar; a single initial, _E._

A small part of my heart aches as I look at it, a certain bitterness twisting in the furthest parts of my stomach.

_No._

I was starting over.

There was no need to look back. I never had before.

Placing a smile on my full lips, I hop back in the front seat, once again looking at myself in the mirror. The eyes looking back at me are almost unrecognizable at times, as if I'll never truly be able to go back to the person I was before. And maybe I wouldn't.

But this was a start.

I, once again, grab my black Chanel clutch, pulling open my car door and smelling the fresh air of Mystic Falls for the very first time. The quaint town is refreshing, definitely appearing to be a quiet, serene place. _Too bad it's swarming with supernatural activity._

Standing, I take a final glance around my new home, eager to get started on the next adventure.

———

Walking into the Grill is a bit of an experience, and by that, I mean it's a bit awkward. My preference for big cities made it to where I was very used to people not noticing my presence, but here, they were apparently not. Many eyes scan my stilled form at the front door, and for the first time in a long time, I feel slightly self conscious.

I'm in a sea of flannel and jeans, and it is not near as cute as I thought it'd be.

There is one thing that I notice that's a bit odd.

_Everyone_ is reasonably attractive. No one overtly ugly, no acne, or men who obviously live with their mothers. It was an even weirder feeling to be noticed by an attractive crowd rather than a normal one. Taking a slight inhale through my nose, there's a glorious melody of scents wafting through the establishment. _Grease. Meat. Maple. _

And of course, blood.

My stomach rolls once again, not only reminding me that I need a blood bag when I get to the Salvatores, but also stirring my still form into motion towards the nearest empty booth.

The seats are sun-bleached, plush, and well-worn; it's clear that this restaurant has either been around a while or it was well loved. _Maybe both?_

The thought dies the second I relax against the booth seat.

Driving twelve hours straight had clearly taken its toll on my lower spine, and I whimpered slightly at the pain of it. Stretching out slightly, I cross my legs as the waiter appears. _And isn't he a **doll**?_

Baby blue eyes smile at me politely, and I smile back, enjoying the appearance of dimples on his cheeks when I do. "Good morning. My name's Matt and I'll be your server. Can I get you anything to drink to start off?"

My smile brightens at his polite work attitude, and he Matt flushes slightly under my gaze. "Yes, please. Can I get a sweet iced tea with a lemon wedge or two?"

The flush grows slightly brighter when he hears my southern accent, and it's absolutely adorable. He's getting a big tip. "O-," he pauses briefly, chuckling, "Of course. Sweet iced tea. Lemon wedge. Any appetizers, Miss?"

Oh.

I laugh quietly at myself, "I haven't really gotten a chance to look at the menu. Any recommendations?"

"Well," he reaches towards the center table, grabbing the small folded menu there. Matt opens it up, leaning forward so I can follow along. "Hash browns are a classic. The cook, Tony, just started making these mushroom steak medallions that are _awesome_, but they're a bit pricey. Everyone likes their own thing, though, so why don't you take a look while I go get your tea?"

I nod in the affirmative, and Matt promptly sets out to get my cold beverage. Deciding quickly that I'm feeling the mushroom steak medallions and get a quick, I set down my menu, happy to see the blond waiter returning with the hydration so quickly.

"Pick your poison?" He asks, and I feel like his friendliness is a bit more genuine than it was at the start of our interaction.

"Yup! Decided to splurge on the mushroom and steak medallions. Medium rare?"

Matt quickly jots it down on his notepad.

"Perfect. Got a breakfast in mind?"

This immediately makes me mentally groan at my own inability to function this morning.

"I don't. I'm so sorry, Let me just look at the menu real quick and I'll decide."

He smiles at my earnestness, shaking his handsome blond head. "No, go ahead and take your time. After all, I'm the lucky guy who gets to meet the new girl first. How are you liking Mystic Falls so far?"

Raising an eyebrow at him, I feel another smile tugging on my lips as I take a glance outside the window at my new small town.

"Interesting so far, Matt. _Very _interesting."

———

After breakfast, I had quickly hopped back into my car and drove right to Damon's house.

Striding up to the front door after deciding to wait to bring my luggage in, I excitedly climb up the stairs to the front door. Knocking in a playful rhythm, I wait eagerly for my favorite person to unlock the door.

And wait...

And wait.

Twenty five minutes have gone by, and I'm past being gracious. Pulling out my phone, I quickly ring him up in my contacts. The second I hear him pick up, I'm on his butt. "_Damon Salvatore, where are **you**? Asked me to come help you out with something, and you're not even here when I arrive? The audacity."_

"Who the hell is this?" A woman's voice asks, and she's lucky I can't reach through the phone with the tone she's taking with me.

"Ugh. You're not Damon. Where's he?"

"Wonderful question," she replies, "Answer is: he's unavailable."

My eyes narrow at that, suddenly very concerned that I might've come too late to help. "Explain what that means before I jump to conclusions and go rip your throat out."

The voice on the other end of the line scoffs at me, "_Please. _No need. He's alive and well. Just busy for a bit. And I intend to keep it that way till we get back, so, ta-ta!"

Dial tone.

"That _bitch _just hung up on me."

———

So, things were not working out _that _well in the new town. It was just the start! Not everything comes easy in eternal life, so I might as well roll with the punches, as they say.

Unfortunately, I do not roll with the punches very well, so I had a bit of a fit outside of Damon's house.

I know, not very ladylike for someone over three hundred years old, but I digress. An apology note for the landscaping in the front yard would do more than fine until Damon came back. And then, I would properly skin whoever came back with him. Unsure if it's noticeable, but I have a tendency to not tolerate too much in the way of disrespect.

Vampirism had been an excellent teacher when it came to being confident. A lot of my kind had egos the size of Texas, i.e. Damon, and it was typical for us to talk down to one another. Respect comes with age and reputation, and I've been around for a very long time.

_I do hope that Damon hasn't turned whoever that was. _I'd hate to end an immortal life right as it's started, but if she was, well, it's the principle of the thing.

This train of thought eventually led to me driving around. I ended up finding a rather shoddy motel on the outskirts of town, but it'd do fine for the night. Hopefully, Damon will have returned by then. I proceeded to take a nap for several hours after downing a couple blood bags, but it proved to be an insufficient day activity. So, I decided that the only answer as to what to do next was: I would wander.

Who knew what kind of dark crevices this town had? It's history is practically _laced _with vampirism itself, let alone other supernatural entities. Mystic Falls was similar in supernatural historic importance to New Orleans, a place that is clearly marked by the paranormal.

And so, that leads me to how I wound up here, in front of Mystic Falls High School.

It was so _strange_.

It was clearly closed, but I could hear young humans bustling through the hallways, laughter quickly following. I could hear the clack of plastic cups being placed on linoleum, the sounds of movement from one classroom to another. It was oddly enough very alluring to me.

I wanted to know what they were doing in there so happily. What did teenagers in this day and age _do _at school in the middle of the night? My feet guided me towards the main doors without my asking, and my curiosity quickly overwhelms any hesitation I have about looking college-aged in a high school.

The hallways are dark and seemingly empty, but I can hear the teenagers' heartbeats and footsteps. It's an interesting aesthetic to be sure, a lovely sort of eerie almost-quiet, and it makes me happy that I decided to come in.

A few students pass me as I wander the labyrinthine halls, not really paying me any mind, and I sigh happily that I'm coming off as if I belong here. It's a unique sense of euphoria that only comes with wanting to, and in turn, _being_ happily accepted. Humming some lullaby, I jump a bit at hearing a door open a bit behind me. Quickly turning, I'm surprised to see a.. very _sweaty _Matt from the Grill.

"Matt?" I ask, clutching my necklace in relief, "You scared me half to death!"

"Hey!" He says, smiling at me warmly enough to show those dimples again. Albeit, it's much less endearing when he's caked in sweat.

Trying my best not to make a face at the water pouring off of his face, I gesture at him, "Are you alright? You're.. sweaty."

He chuckles at my derisive tone, grabbing the towel off of his shoulder and wiping his forehead. "I was working out in the gym.. Actually, what are _you _doing here? Are you in school?"

_Oh shoot, I guess I'm lying._

"Uh.. Yes, actually! Start first thing tomorrow."

_Please say school starts tomorrow. Please say school starts tomorrow._

"Oh, well, that's great—," he pauses, glancing down at me, "Wait. I don't think I caught your name."

"Well, that's because I didn't throw it, Matt," I say with a faux puff of my cheeks, before finally breaking and snorting, extending my hand out warmly. "Just teasing. My name is Eleanor Maddox."

He tests my name out once before nodding as he shakes my hand, looking up, and glancing around the hallway. "Is something going on here tonight?" He asks as he releases my hand from his much larger grasp.

"I'm unaware of any engagements. But_, _I'm looking around, if you'd like to escort me."

"_Escort?"_ He asks with a snort, "What are you, _eighty_?"

_Not even close._

Shoving his shoulder playfully, I continue walking down the hall without him, waiting for the sweaty blond boy to catch up to me. He does shortly after, quickly jogging behind me.

_He's very sweet._

I might not think he's attractive anymore because of all the gross sweat, but Matt is an absolute sweetheart, so we could be friends. We continue a light conversation as we search the school, and I'm happy to have found someone who I can converse with so easily. All things must come to an end, however, and we eventually found a classroom that he heard a shuffle in.

We slowly close in on the door, peeking into the dark room. Matt's heartbeat spikes when I cross the threshold first, but he quickly follows. How odd. Typically that only happens when humans are scared. Did I _scare _Matt? Or was he scared of whatever could be lurking in the school hallways?

My thoughts screech to an alarming halt as the room suddenly rings out with many loud THWACK!s in quick succession. It makes me jump and squeal, and just as soon as I make to rush Matt out of here, the light switch flips on revealing an angry group of teens.

A pretty blonde girl, dark-haired jock, a pretty girl with green eyes, and another pretty girl with large doe eyes.. who looks sort of familiar. Curious.

"Oh, come _on!" _The blonde cries looking at both me and Matt accusingly, "Seriously?! Do you know how _long_ it took for us to set all this up?!?"

Glancing down at the floor reveals the unseen 'threat': mousetraps.

_I am **so **confused._

Why are you all such pretty teens? Did you all just skip puberty? Why are there mousetraps? Why are they all over the classroom floor? Why are there teens at school at night? Why are the teens setting mousetraps on the floor of the classroom at the school in the middle of the night?

My brain is deeply befuddled.

"Forgot about Senior Prank Night, huh?" The jock asks, leaned against a desk.

_Senõr what?_

"_Clearly_," Matt replies, and the sweat on his forehead has made an obvious return at how bad he must've been scared.

"Who's this, Matt?" The brunette with the doe eyes asks, and the minute I see them make eye contact I recognize the tension. They're ex-lovers! How _dramatic_.

Matt sheepishly wipes his forehead again with the towel, seeing me get squeamish about it as he gestures to me. "_This _is Eleanor Maddox. She's new, and _also _didn't know about Prank Night."

I smile at his cheap attempt at a barbed comeback. It's clear he's close with these people, and if they were a friend of Matt's, well... I'd give them a shot.

Waving to the group, I feel Doe Eyes' gaze shift from questioning to suspicious while the rest of them smile back at me politely. _I wonder why?_

And why does she look familiar?

This town is _so_ much more interesting than I thought it'd be.

Matt nods to each of them, starting with the jock with the chiseled jaw. "That one there is Tyler Lockwood, he's a douche," Tyler Lockwood immediately glares at Matt, but the sweaty boy carries on before he can start. "That's the one and only Caroline Forbes," points to the blonde who waves with a smile before stubbornly turning back to a frown.

Matt turns to continue down the line, pointing at the suspicious brunette with doe eyes.

"This here is Elena Gilbert," _Guess I don't know her. _"And then there's Bonnie Bennett, he finishes, pointing at the green eyed girl. She gives me a small smile and a wave, and I'm starting to feel pretty welcome outside of Elena looking at me like I'm about to murder her.

Or at least I had thought I was.

The blonde girl is undeterred and full of rage. "_How _could you _forget?_" She yells/asks Matt, and I breathe a sigh of relief that it's not directed at me. "We've only been waiting for this since, like, freshman year!"

_She's a spitfire._

Elena appears to take a break from staring me down like a microbial disease she's attempting to study, smiling at Matt instead.

"Yeah, Matt. If _I'm _doing this, _you're _doing this," she pauses turning to me and forcing her smile a little bit, "and since you're brand new, _you're _doing this, too, Ellie."

I try not to reflexively cringe at the podunk nickname; one of the eternal banes of my existence. "Oh, don't call me 'Ellie', please, Elena? My little brother was real mean about it, and Eleanor is much more elegant. But if you all would like my assistance, that sounds lovely."

Everyone blinks besides Matt, and I momentarily forget that I even have an accent, wondering instead 'what have I done wrong?'

Caroline giggles slightly, and I raise an eyebrow, getting annoyed that I'm not in on the joke. Finally, Tyler speaks.

"I didn't know you were a southern belle, Eleanor."

Oh. Well. Proves no matter how old you get, you can make a mess of things.

"Yes, sir," I say playfully, smiling at the jock, "Born and raised a Georgia peach."

He smirks at me, and the mischievous glint in his eye tells me he is nothing but _trouble. _"Well, _Peach_, I'm gonna go finish the other rooms while you lazy guys chitchat." And with that, Tyler Lockwood exits the classroom.

Elena is still eyeing me up when she thinks I'm not looking, and my own suspicions are proven valid when she walks up to me. She comes off warm, but I'm not quite sure if it's genuine. "I'm going to go prank our history teacher. Wanna help?"

Smiling back at her, I can't help but be even _more _curious. Who exactly is this 'Elena Gilbert'? "Well, of course! I've never heard of Prank Night, but I'm excited to join its customs."

Her dark brow arches to match mine.

"You're really well spoken, Eleanor."

"Practice makes progress," I quip with a smirk, following her as she exits the classroom. We walk besides one another, and I can already feel the awkwardness from the tension hedging in.

"So, Elena," I finally say, breaking the heavy silence, "Anything special or interesting about Mystic Falls you could tell me? This town is a bit boring at times."

She chuckles as we turn to step out of another set of hallway doors, and I let her go through first, "Actually, _yeah._ There's—!!"

Elena gasps harshly as she slams into someone ahead of us.

Some _man. _

Quite possibly one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen, frankly.

He has _deep _stormy blue eyes, awash with several shifting emotions that I can't identify if I try, but they are there swirling magnificently. High cheekbones lift smooth pale skin, a button nose topping his features like a cherry on top. He has curly blond hair, and believe me, it's difficult for a man to pull off, but he is completely _owning _it. Tall, at least six feet, broad-shouldered, but lithe. _Handsome. _I wish to take many pictures of this man.

Elena's gasp, however, had _not _sounded like she was surprised she had bumped into the pretty man, but more like she was _afraid _of the pretty man.

"There's my girl," he replies, but it sounds like a threat.

_Oh, wait. Was that a British accent? That's just about the loveliest thing I've ever heard._

"_Klaus,_" She gasps in fright, going several shades paler as the man looks down on her. Those pretty blue eyes are on me momentarily, but I _feel_ it. The predatory nature that I was all too familiar with.

_This town has got to be the most intriguing place in the world._

He smiles darkly just as Elena snatches my wrist in hers, turning us to get away, but he's suddenly there in front of us. _Oh. **Oh.**_

Not only is the beautiful man a vampire, but he must be a _lot _older than me to move that quickly. I hardly sawhim _move_. Oh boy, does this 'Klaus' have something to do with why Damon asked for my assistance? Why is he here for Elena? Obviously she's aware of the supernatural, but I wonder if she knows Damon.

Choosing to observe before helping out either side, I stand passively as he glares down at Elena.

"You're supposed to be dead."

My eyes widen cartoonishly at what the handsome vampire says to the human girl who's oddly familiar, in a small town full of the supernatural.

_Well, I'll be proud to call this place home if it is always this entertaining!_

*****

**A/n: Hi, everyone! Hope you enjoy this new story. My other stories will be continuing as normal. This is a Klaus/OC story, and no, this doesn't affect who my love interests are in my other stories! **

*


	2. Two

"She wore her hopes like a crown. An outspoken soliloquy of dreams."

—Ariana Dancu

Chapter Two: The Big Bad Hybrid

"You're supposed to be dead."

Now, what could that possibly mean? Why was this simple teenager being chased by such an ancient vampire, in the first place? He continues to look down upon Elena, and I see her involuntarily tremble. Perhaps their last encounter hadn't been pleasant. Vampires aren't known for their mercy.

"What are we going to do about _that_?" The menacing coldness of his voice is very much seeing his purpose of intimidation through.

_What a whirlwind tonight has turned out to be._

Either way, perhaps I've stayed too long.

"Oh, I see, then I'll let you both talk," I say, completely snapping the pair out of their homicidal trance. Elena looks at me, alarmed, and that's when those pretty stormy blues catch my eye once again. He grins wickedly down at me.

"Well, _hello_ there," he welcomes, but there's something purely feral behind it; it looked like the sort of joy that a cat might have while playing with it's food. "And, who exactly might you be?"

"She's innocent, Klaus!" Elena attempts, but it's clear that any struggle from her will be futile. The poor human is also very, very wrong.

"Now, now, Elena," Klaus brushes off, grabbing the human girl's lithe upper arm tightly before once again smiling at me, "That's no way to treat new friends. What's your name?"

The second the question falls off his lips, his pupils dilate rapidly, and my mouth goes dry. All I want to do is tell Klaus my name. Tell Klaus my name. _Tell Klaus my name._

My mind feels almost suspended. As if my mind has been banished from having contact with the rest of my body. I feel my lips open, "Eleanor Maddox."

There's a slight panic that I can't control my own movements, but, I take a deep breath and hold it together. I'm already in the thick of it, might as well soldier on.

"_Eleanor_," He mutters as if tasting it to see if it was poison, "Lovely. Come now, Eleanor, stay close. We're going for a quick walk."

Klaus' grip on Elena's arm tightens as he walks ahead of me, but my body can only follow. It was a terrifying sensation to have my body moving without my express permission. I hadn't felt the effect of compulsion in a verylong time.

Wait a moment.

_How does one vampire compel another?_

He must have one hell of a witch.

And so, we strode together down the hallway, my walk much more willing appearance-wise than Elena's. I don't know what this little girl did to make this man so angry, but I'm a bit concerned that I'll pay the price for her mistakes.

"You put a rather large kink in my plans, sweetheart," the pretty Brit growls, pulling Elena even faster through the linoleum halls.

"The whole point of breaking the curse and becoming a hybrid was to make _more_ hybrids. I haven't been able to do that. Now my bet is," he punctuates the last word with a yank on Elena to the right, "it has something to do with the fact that you're still _breathing_."

_Wait_.

Hybrid?

...

Now that is by far the most interesting thing I've heard today. I was aware of rumors of the Original vampires, one in particular about a hybrid. A werewolf and a vampire? What a strange entanglement of different instincts. If he wasn't as old as he is, the full transformation to a hybrid might have made him go insane.

_What's required to make a hybrid?_ I think silently to myself as my body continues its autopilot behind the Original hybrid.

_Well, clearly he doesn't know, otherwise, he wouldn't have to come for the girl._

"If you're going to kill me, just do it!" Elena bites out, struggling to keep up with the long-legged Original. It was like a parent rushing with their child across the street before the light changes.

"Not until I know I'm right. But, I do have ways of making you suffer!"

He turns us roughly into what must've been the school gymnasium, decorated colorfully with pranks and teenagers. Plastic cups filled with water are lined in long tight rows, the students scooting by on skateboards to ease the tedious task. It really has been too long since I went to school. Perhaps it will actually be nice to start again with them.

Well, that's if I live through this, but I'm attempting to be a more positive person nowadays.

"Attention, Seniors!" Klaus calls out in an American accent, and it's so grossly not _him_ that I have to stifle a laugh with a cough. He glares coldly back at me momentarily, sending chills down my spine before turning back to the waiting seniors.

"You have been officially busted. Prank Night is over. Head on home," he finishes, and the kids immediately groan, ambling out of the gym in a horde. Klaus smirks as the last student files out, leaving me and Elena with the Original hybrid once again.

The tall blond Brit flashes in front of me, and I want to step back, but I _can't_.

"Ah, perfect. Now we can get on with having fun, Elena," his eyes are dark and sadistically amused as he watches the girl shutter. Mine and Elena's eyes meet, and I can see how apologetic and guilty she feels for bringing me into a potentially fatal situation. Oh, I've been alive a long time. It's fine. I give her a small smile, a token of forgiveness. Everyone should be forgiven when they ask for it.

Klaus shoves Elena several feet away from us, not hard enough to knock her over, but enough to make her stumble a bit. There's a knot in my throat as the Original looks down upon me, a light, devilish smirk on h is face. His pupils pulse as he speaks, "Don't move."

Well, that's just lovely. Now I'm actually stuck here. I wonder if I'll die? What was it Peter Pan said? Ah. 'Death would be an awfully big adventure.'

I hope it is.

"What you're going to do now, Eleanor, is you're going to grab that rubber mallet down there on that table," he points to a back corner table littered with plastic cups. It had a half-hung poster above it talking about Senior Prank Night— it probably was intended to be a calling card.

He continues, "And anytime Elena annoys me, you're going to bash your head in. Each time you do it, you'll do it harder until you're dead."

_Oh, that's going to be delightful to heal from,_ I mentally whine, not looking forward to the pain I was about to experience. Elena, on the other hand, is panicked.

"Klaus, you don't have to hurt anyone!"

The cruel glee behind those beautiful eyes attests to the contrary, and I mentally steel myself for the pain I know is coming. _Oh, this is going to hurt._

"Oh, come on, love," He pauses briefly to grin darkly in my direction, brushing a curl out of my face before stepping back towards Elena. "Of _course_ I do. Now, Eleanor, that'll be two hits, and put some weight in it. Wouldn't want to double it, now would we?"

"No," I growl, unwillingly walking over to grab the mallet and back again in front of the pair. Elena has started to panic further, looking at me apologetically and I feel bad for the poor thing. This must be traumatizing for children, but I'll heal pretty quickly after, so I'm sure she'll be fine.

Oh, wait.

The dynamic might change once they're aware of my vampiric status.

_Maybe he'll let me go?_ I doubted it.

The mallet hangs heavy in my hands as I line it up with my nose, lower it, and clench my teeth as hard as I possibly can as the mallet swings upward. The extra kick from the vampire strength has definitely broken my nose, and there's an explosion of sharp pain all over my face, definitely not just the nose. Before I can even recover, my arm swings hard on its own, smashing my nose even further.

If I hadn't been in a similar amount of pain about a month prior, it probably would've been more nauseating, but it was uncomfortably familiar. I taste copper once again, and blinking, I don't know when I've landed on the floor. It's so much more comfortable down here that I'm glad that gravity is taking care of me for once.

_What was I doing again?_

My nose snaps back in place with a painful twist, making me groan and sit up. Klaus and Elena are a bit blurry for the moment, but I can tell that they're staring at me as I wipe the blood off my nose. Gasping, I realize that I'm still wearing a very cute jacket and it will be very difficult to get blood off of it, and it'll be super noticeable because it's maroon on fire engine red.

The Original and girl both stiffen at my sudden movement, but I can scarcely care about that as I look down at my jacket urgently.

_Oh, please, please, please—THANK GODDESS!_

I sigh as I see that the blood is only on the turtleneck sleeve, chuckling while drowning in relief. It was custom made by my designer in Rome, and it takes forever for me to get replacement. Not to mention, the skirt had been a thrift find, but no one 'normal-shopping' wise had a jacket to match, so I went the expensive route and got an old fashion designer to remake and revamp it. Eight long months, I waited. And then, finally my baby was ready.

And then it almost died.

_Oh god, the skirt!_

I've nearly forgotten where I am when Klaus speaks again, and he finally doesn't look blurry. "Well, this is a dramatic turn of events. Were you aware of this, Elena?"

Standing and dusting off my skirt, Elena stares at me in shock, and I turn to Klaus.

"Would it be possible for me to at least set my jacket on the bleachers while you torture me?" I ask, gesturing to the small set of stairs. His gaze is firm, but I can't tell whether he's more amused or suspicious at the revelation that I'm a vampire.

"I'd rather not ruin it, it's expensive," I continue when he doesn't respond.

"You're a _vampire_, Eleanor?!" Elena shouts, and my slightly still ringing ears make me wince at the volume.

"Yes, I have to admit this is a rather unfortunate coincidence for me," I reply nonchalantly, and Klaus chuckles.

"Oh? So you actually _do_ have something to do with this."

"Definitely not," I say with a prim shake of my head, turning to set my jacket down anyways if he's going to keep interrogating, but there the hybrid is before me in a blink. Encroaching on my personal space to make me feel smaller, he steps closer.

"I didn't say you could do that, love."

"Well," I say with an indignant puff of my cheeks, "if you're going to kill me, I don't have all day, now do I? I asked, it's not my fault you didn't answer promptly like a gentleman."

He looks simultaneously irritated and somewhat amused, "And what leads you to believe that I'm a gentleman?"

I furrow my brows slightly, pondering, and I can tell he's confused about my lack of concern over my imminent death. "It's in the eyes. Men without honor tend to lack a certain something. But yours don't, and the eyes don't lie."

"And you don't consider your potential murderer as a 'man without honor?'" He asks, and I can tell he's mocking me by the superior grin that spreads across his stupid handsome face.

"No," I cross my arms tighter over the jacket in annoyance at being made fun of, "Frankly, I have no idea what is going on here, and I don't know you. You're not torturing me just to torture me, you're doing it to hurt Elena, and she's apparently done something to your hybrids."

"Eleanor, he—," Elena interrupts, but I place my finger on my lips in the classic 'be quiet' gesture. She blinks at my cutting her off, and I take that as my opportunity to continue, turning back to look a surprised looking Klaus in the eye whilst taking a step away from his closeness.

"I'm just a means to an end, and I can respect that. Not particularly thrilled about dying, but I understand why. You know, you are being awfully rude to someone who's just complimented you."

Klaus chuckles in disbelief, shaking his curly blond head at me. "You know what? You're right. How about we start over? I'm Klaus Mikaelson, the Original hybrid." He extends out his large hand.

_If you didn't have that British accent, I would say no, however—_

My hand unwittingly flits over to his, shaking it firmly with a polite smile. "I can't say it's been lovely to meet you, but it's been interesting at least, Klaus Mikaelson. I'm Eleanor Maddox."

His grip on my hand changes, making my throat tighten in an uncomfortable way.

_That's a new feeling._

He turns it and bows, placing a chaste kiss on the back of my hand in a gentlemanly manner, and I can't help but be much more happy with him treating me like this— at least as my murderer, anyway.

He glances up at me through those pretty, thick blonde lashes, and suddenly, I feel as if I want to capture that moment. It feels... important.

Slowly releasing my hand, to the point where I can feel his fingers trace my palm briefly, Klaus takes a step away from me, a small, pleased sort of smile on his cheeks. "It has been a pleasure to meet you, Eleanor."

_Oh, is he going to kill me now? I almost wish I could have at least five more minutes to watch the drama play out. What a shame._

The killing strike never happens.

Instead, Klaus gestures towards the gymnasium doors, walking back over to grasp Elena once again to his side. My brows furrow in confusion, _am I not dying?_

"Afraid I can't escort you home right now, Eleanor. Go on," he says as his pupils dilate once again, and I see Elena's eyes bug out of her head nearly cartoonishly.

Fair enough as to why, though. Mercy wasn't his general response when it came to Elena apparently. I, myself, was quite surprised at the turn of events, and my face must've said as much, because he rolled his eyes.

"I won't say it _twice_, Eleanor," he growls, and I know the threat is legitimate. To be perfectly honest, I don't need a repetition.

"Understood. I hope you both have a wonderful evening," I say with a quick bow of respect to who could potentially be the start of my line and a brief, semi-apologetic look to Elena, who I was definitely about to abandon to her death.

Poor thing.

Speeding out of the gymnasium, I don't stop running until I'm safely out of the school a few moments later. Taking a brief glance back, I see a teenage boy enter the school, and I wonder if he's to die as well as those other students.

_Well, that's not my problem. _

Then, I run off into the night, eager to get in my bed and ponder the day's activities. My brain felt like it almost was unable to handle so much pertinent information, and attempting to physically melt in the shower did no help either. So much to learn, so little time. And at the forefront of my mind, one question continues to blare through my brain like a tornado siren.

_Why am I alive right now?_

*

The motel is smelly, and I do realize that I'm saying that as someone who has a supernatural sense of it, but I can tell that it's quite bad in particular this morning. It has fully rejuvenated my rage towards Damon Salvatore to temperatures hot enough to be like my rage towards horizontal stripes.

_Ew_.

Angrily shifting through the few hung up clothes that I placed in the small motel room in nothing but a towel, I roll my eyes at my own lack of clothes. It is really frustrating to only have a few favorites items in your duffel when you want to mix and match the entire set.

I have a human compelled and ready to go, instructed to drive the rest of my closet down here from a storage unit in Miami, but there was no way this tiny little room was going to provide enough storage for over six years worth of my clothing. Poor, little closet was a tiny mister, and I had no desire to be jumping over my clothes on every available surface until Damon decides to come back. That's just demeaning for a woman my age.

I huff through my nose, enjoying the slight chill from the air after my shower. It was always a bit funny, but anytime I have a near death experience, I'm always a bit more sensitive to the sensation of life. Blankets seem softer, singing takes on a more magical quality, really anything you could think of took on a more sentimental value to me.

Shoving back a pastel blue leather jacket, I smile finally when I see an adorable pink, fuzzy crop top with long sleeves. Inspiration.

Quickly tossing it over my head, I reach over into the duffel to grab the black jean miniskirt and flinging it over my shoulder, shuffling both myself and my pale yellow fuzzy slipper sandals into the bathroom to throw on the outfit as quickly as my vampire speed would allow. Swiping my hand on the shower-fogged mirror, I look at the slightly drowned look I have with my silk bonnet in place and no makeup.

Reaching to start applying some makeup products before I deal with the hair, I wonder if I should try any of the town's libraries to try and find what other secrets were buried here. I was just _so _happy to not be bored again. Things had gotten a little bleak over the last couple weeks, and I wasn't sure if my brain would ever get back to that spontaneous place it used to be in.

A quick coat of mascara, swirl of lipgloss, and a bit of blush are more than enough to bring my golden skin back to it's regularly scheduled radiance, and I mentally thank god I'm a vampire, once again. Haven't had to deal with a zit in 300 years, and my pores are pretty much permanently nonexistent since my body hasn't created those natural oils in such a long time.

I'd hate to be an actual teenager. God knows how they get through that age in a time of crisp, frequent photography.

I finally remove my bonnet, letting loose a torrential downpour of thick, damp, dark curls on my back, and I wrap a towel around it briefly to dry it more and maybe press more of the overwhelming amount of product into my hair. Curls are exceedingly difficult to manage, and that hasn't changed since I was young.

Frowning briefly at the sudden memories of my childhood, I brush it off with a shake of my head, placing the now damp towel back on the rack before reaching over to grab my small, white pearl earrings.

The cloudy haze of the steam has finally dissipated in he bathroom, and I take a final look at my self, fluffing my bangs momentarily before moving back into the room to grab my four-inch thick black platform sandals. Tossing them quickly on and grateful that I had the foresight to get a mani pedi before I came here.

Not 100% sure if I should be putting this much effort in for this sidewinder town, but who cares? I like looking cute anyway. Reaching down, I grab my Prada Saffiano bag and rush out of the motel, quickly locking the place behind me. With any luck, Damon would be back and I wouldn't have to stay the night here again.

*

So, now I'm on the road, sipping on a nice thick blood bag of AB positive, and off to double check the Salvatore home to see if Damon has come back. At least, before I have to go compel my way into a high school.

_Ugh,_ I mentally whine.

That was an accident that I had caused while exploring yesterday, but, today it could actually be extremely useful in figuring out whatever mysteries are occurring in Mystic Falls. Obviously, Elena is most likely dead, but I could at least talk to her friends and see if they're aware of the supernatural as well, and maybe discover whatever she did to Klaus' hybrids.

And _why_.

Pulling up to the boardinghouse, I quickly hop out, throwing on a pair of cheap tinted aviator sunglasses as I walk towards the entrance. _Oh! Did I double check that I had Damon's present before I left?_

Pausing, my body turns a complete 180, opening my rear car door to look underneath the throw blanket back there. I lean further in, feeling the jean skirt slowly ride up the backs of my thighs, and the moment I spot it, I squeak in surprises hands on my waist.

My body has been pulled out of the car, instead, suddenly standing and facing the opposite direction of the car, hands pinned to the sides of my head. I already _know_ who it is before my brain rationalizes it, and it makes me giggle eagerly. I look up at those familiar, beautiful, icy blue eyes above those dark, menacing veins fondly.

"Damon!" I exclaim happily, and my buddy o' pal finally snaps out of 'scare' mode, instead breaking into a mischievous grin of his own.

"Elle," his smile is brighter than I've seen it in a long time; I wonder what brought that on? Damon's muscular arms wrap around my waist tightly, and I squeal when he lifts me up into a spin, holding my tiny form against his own like I weigh nothing. "You are a sight for sore eyes, gorgeous."

He sounds tired.

When he finally sets me down, I take his cheeks in my hands, closely inspecting his face. "Don't tell me you were having fun without me, Mr. Salvatore! I won't be forgiving."

Rolling his eyes, he wraps an arm around my shoulder, turning to guide me in the house.

"Trust me, Elle, if you were missing out, you'd be the first one I'd call—"

"WAIT!" I exclaim, quickly removing Damon's arm and rushing back to my backseat as he blinks at me owlishly. "I have a gift for you!"

I bend further in to reach the gift bag and hear Damon chuckle.

"If _that's_ my gift, Elle, it's very much appreciated and I'll be opening it immediately."

Rolling my eyes at his flirtatious antics, the bag finds its way into my waiting hand, and I spin around out of the car with a wide grin, arm extended for him to take it. Salvatore looks down at it with a raised brow, and I take a moment to really analyze how my good friend is looking.

His hair is messed up, and not in his usual 'bad boy' aesthetic; it's in a way that lets me know he hasn't slept in a while. Vampires don't necessarily require sleep, but we do start to get a little looney without it, so whatever Damon has been doing lately wasn't good for his mental health. His blue eyes look... emotional. _That's new._ What brought that on?

Damon finally snatches the bag out of my hands like I knew he wanted to, gleefully opening the gift.

Not many people were aware, but Damon Salvatore _loves_ presents, and especially if he wasn't expecting them. It's why I sporadically gifted him so much even though we haven't seen each other in ten years.

As he pulls out the cologne, I see a small smile light up his face at the gift, and it makes buying it completely worth it. "You remembered that I only wear Varvatos?"

Nodding, I link elbows with him, flashing a teasing smile that's returned. "Of course I did! You insult me, Mr. Salvatore. Besides, buying you anymore vintage alcohol is getting a bit too 'scheduled' for my liking."

He bobs his handsome head noncommittally, "Fair enough," suddenly, his eyes flash with remembrance.

"Oh, yeah. I should mention that Stefan isn't his usual 'goody-two-shoes' self, so, you'll have to meet my baby brother when he's... lacking his hero hair."

Blinking, I shrug that off. It doesn't matter too much to me what Stefan is like when I meet him, I don't like him. Damon has told me all throughout our fifty year friendship about his 'good' little brother who turned him against his will. Not only that, but Stefan had gone after his girlfriend after Damon had made his interest in her clear, and I could never respect such ungentlemanly behavior.

We walk arm in arm into the house, and I'm nearly overwhelmed by the powerful odor of blood ripping through the lodging. It smells like someone just cut open two people and let them bleed out, and when I see two passed out sorority girls on the staircase and carpet, bleeding out.

"Well," I sigh, crossing my arms and huffing at the mess. _Seriously? He couldn't pick up a bit before I came over? He knew I was coming._ "That's going to stain."

Damon nods, guiding me to the living room as we follow the trail of blood. "I hate being the 'responsible adult.'"

Salvatore's arm unwinds from mine, walking further into the living room, and what I see is, well, _new_.

_What the hell is that?_

Several different sorority girls giggle as they all seemingly tie themselves together in a human knot, blood coating not only their bodies but also the plastic colorful tarp underneath. A handsome young man seems to be instructing them as to how, holding a cardboard spinner and reading off different appendages to different colored spots to further entangle them.

Ah.

_That must be Stefan._

He's a rather pretty young vampire; thick dirty blond locks pushed haphazardly off his face, pretty green eyes, strong jaw, and seemingly tall. _I do **not** see the resemblance. _I see him glance up, but he makes no move to introduce himself, instead calling one of the girls not in the knot to him and biting into her wrist.

Oh, I see. He's a ripper.

Now, that has got to be interesting.

I had never been too infatuated with blood after my transformation, never having to truly struggle with my hunger until about six months ago. It was a topic of interest to me to understand more about it, but I have never seen what another vampire looks like on the other end of that spectrum.

"Hey," Damon calls out, and I see annoyance flicker over his features at the mess. "The two brunettes on the staircase owe me a Persian rug."

_I knew it looked nice._

Wiping his mouth nonchalantly, Stefan finally acknowledges our presence, looking at me very briefly. It's obvious that he has flipped the switch.

"You mean, 'they owe _us_ a new Persian rug?'" Stefan asks, and I can't deny, he makes a good point. "It's my house, too, brother. Ooh! Would you like a spin?"

Stefan playfully waggles the cardboard spinner, and for a brief moment, I debate it.

What? It looks entertaining.

"So, this is what Klaus had in mind when he compelled you to protect Elena?"

Record scratch.

_Now, wait just a goddamn minute. There is no way it's possible, It's too convenient._

"Did you just say '_Elena_?'" I ask numbly, realizing just how big of a mess I have walked into.

Damon's head swivels in my direction, clearly confused.

"You know her?"

Nodding, I see that Stefan is now paying very close attention to me, but I brush it off remembering that if Klaus has assigned him to protecting Elena, so he probably was just trying to see if I was a viable threat.

I am, just not to Elena.

"I met her last night at the high school, not to mention I got acquainted with that Klaus fellow. He's a peach, isn't he?" I ask sarcastically, and Damon's prodding gaze asks me to continue nonverbally. "Long story short, he thought I was human and used me to torture the poor girl. And by that I mean I was the one who was tortured and she got to watch.— But, it wasn't that bad, really. A quick broken nose, not a huge altercation." I add hastily, seeing the hateful glower in Damon's eyes grow in intensity.

"How did you escape? You weren't there when I arrived," Stefan questions, and I'm just a little surprised he's actually talking to me instead of waiting for Damon to again.

Sheepishly, I shuffle from one foot to the other, "Well, I almost got blood on my cute jacket, so I asked to set it elsewhere if we were going to continue, and they realized I was a vampire. Klaus was suspicious, so I told him that I understood it wasn't personal, and I had no idea what Elena, of all people, had to do with his hybrids, so I wasn't that mad about it. Then, he just let me go all of a sudden."

Damon's glare shifts from being visibly angry with Klaus to being visibly angry with me.

"And you just left her there?!" He yells, causing me to jump slightly. I feel a familiar haunting chill down my spine, but I ignore it, instead glaring back just as fiercely at him.

"Gee, Damon, why didn't I risk my life to save some teeny bopper I met ten minutes prior? Well, maybe, if someone was in town when he said he was going to be, or maybeif someone had told me what was going on in this town I wouldn't have walked right into my possible murder!"

He looks down briefly, clearly feeling bad for taking out his anger on me, and as well he should.

"Okay, I get it. That was my bad."

Forgiveness is quickly given, smiling at the grumpy Damon. "I know."

Turning back to his brother and his broads, who have all been watching the drama, Damon gestures at the scantily clad girls. "Do they need to be in our house or can you take this party elsewhere?"

Scoffing, Stefan stands from his spot on the couch, briefly stretching before looking at Damon like he's the most boring man on earth. "These ladies are helping me be all that I can be."

Damon is gearing up to start the argument again, but he's cut off by a knock at the door.

"You fellas have visitors?" I ask, the twang sticking out sharply at 'fellas.'

Briefly glancing at both of us with a confused arch of his brow, Damon then turns to check the front door. I can't stop a rather unladylike eye roll when the sorority girls mindlessly giggle behind him, completely oblivious to their current situation.

I feel bad for the poor things, but the compulsion does make them come off as pretty vapid and full of pointless chatter, and that was immensely annoying to me.

Damon opens the front door to reveal a beautiful blonde woman, chin high and proud. There was something familiar about that resolute confidence, that belief that she is the most important person in the room. Sharp, intelligent dark blue eyes, haughty curl of her lips, high cheekbones, cute outfit.

She has all the makings of potentially being my new best friend.

"Where's Stefan?" She asks as she shoves past Damon carrying several bags, and I nearly laugh at the offended look on his face. Was that a British accent? Does she know Klaus? This town just gets more and more alluring in its complex mysteries.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" Damon asks, glaring at the amused look on my face. The woman struts further into the room, ignoring him whilst looking down upset at me and Stefan from the offset staircase.

"He left me here," she rants. "My brother _actually_ left me here."

_Is this still a functioning boardinghouse?_

"Oh, I'm sorry," Stefan apathetically apologizes. "Your tone implies that I'm actually supposed to care."

I see a brief flash of hurt cross the girl's face, and feel a sweeping wave of compassion for her. She probably adored her brother and was very hurt that he left her alone, and instead of receiving comfort, she receives apathy. She glances at me briefly.

"And who are _you_?" She asks, and I'm not quite sure if her tone means she's being rude.

"Eleanor Maddox. Pleasure to make your acquaintance," I say, smiling politely while extending my hand out.

"And what makes you think I want to shake your hand?" She asks, and I'm briefly reminded of Regina George from Mean Girls. I love it. It's iconic.

But, the only way to have a friendship of equal footing with Regina George's clone is to establish dominance.

"A firm handshake says a lot about a person. I'm trying to see if I want you in my presence," I say with a sugary sweet voice, and the woman's brow cocks at the jab.

She hums lightly, and I see her blue eyes really look at me. Her manicured hand extends, clasping mine as firmly as I thought she would, and she gives me a mock smile back. _She is not a wallflower._

"If anything, it'll be to see if you're worthy to be in mine."

We split amicably, and I feel a warmth spread in my chest at the potential new best friend. I wonder if she likes shopping. I stop that thought. Of course she does, look at her outfit.

"You're Klaus' sister?" I hear Damon ask, and I freeze.

_Of course._

*

**_A/n: Hi everyone! How are you liking the story so far? Thank you so much for your comments, likes, and follows. I absolutely adore reading them!_**

**_Also, no, Eleanor doesn't heave a face claim, but I'm open to recommendations._**

**_Love y'all! _**

**_*_**


	3. Three

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and the other begins?"

—Edgar Allen Poe

Chapter 3: Teenagers Are Gross

"Hello. My name is Eleanor Maddox, and I'm starting school here today," I compel the front office woman in the frumpy dress pants with a sigh, checking my immaculate nail beds out of boredom.

"I'd like you to compile all of the documents required for me to do so, and fudge whatever details needed to make it look realistic. Oh, and could you go cut your wrist and fill up one of those paper cups for me, please?"

A pretty blonde head pops over my shoulder, deep blue eyes sparkling with excitement as she took in the high school office.

"Make all of that a double. I'm _starved,"_ she bemoans with her British lilt.

Rolling my eyes at Rebekah, I smile politely down at the complacent human that quickly hands us our styrofoam cups of blood. Biting my thumb hard, I let some of my blood trinkle into her coffee cup before facing her, hands folded. "Of course, Rebekah. Ma'am, I'd also like for you to keep working on that no matter what anyone else tells you to do. How long will that take.. um, Mrs. Driver?" I add as I look down, reading the woman's name tag.

"That will take me all day. I will do it all day. Why don't I print you both out a schedule and I'll call you to the office later to sign off the rest of the documents?" She offers, dark eyes glazed over lazily.

"Lovely," I quickly answer, grabbing my clutch from where it sat on the desk counter. "If anyone asks, we're emergency transfers. Any cases of people poking their nose in our business, just call me at _this_ number," I pause, handing her the small piece of paper I've jotted my number on. "And I'll assist you promptly. Forget that I've instructed any of this to you when I say,_ 'thank you,'"_ I add, placing her very nice office pen in my wallet for safe keeping before smiling at the babbling blood bag.

"Thank you, Mrs. Driver."

The small-eyed woman blinks awake, confused momentarily before glancing up at me with a sour expression.

"Please proceed to," she pauses briefly, re-scanning our schedules fresh off the printer beside her, "Mr. Saltzman's AP American History class." Handing us both our respective sheets, she doesn't even dismiss us; instead lowering her head back to her computer to continue her futile game of solitaire that I had spotted prior.

Spinning off on the heel of my platform sandals, Rebekah Mikaelson struts alongside me down the somewhat empty linoleum hallways.

"Odd," I remark to no one in particular, and the blonde turns to me with a sharp brow raised in question. Shrugging, my smile turns a bit sheepish.

"Well, last time I was in these hallways, your brother was going to torture me. It's interesting how people always come back to the strangest places, hm?"

Rebekah's blue eyes sharpen defensively, and I raise my hands in mock-defeat to stop her from building her walls up any higher. "Don't worry. I'm not in a tizzy over it, and your brother let me go at the end of the day, so I have no right to complain. I just thought it was an entertaining story to share."

A brief flash of confusion fills her face, before abruptly turning into amusement. "Of course _you'd_ think that story was entertaining," she says with a small, teasing smirk, and I get excited at her attempt to banter with me.

I just really, really, **really** want to be her best friend.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I'm offended! Barely even knows me and is implying I'm strange. How rude.

"You're a bit eccentric, Eleanor," she replies, giving me a look out of the corner of her eyes. "Nothing wrong with it. The most memorable people are."

Blushing, I smile as bright as the glory of a thousand dawns at the compliment. "_Aw,_ Rebekah! Are you saying I'm _memorable?"_

Rolling her azure eyes, she doesn't answer me the rest of the way. Instead there's the small quirk of a smile that hangs off the edge of her lips, like she's remembering something pleasant.

*

Classrooms are very interesting.

You line up young humans in rows and ask them to pay attention as you read and write in front of them. They take that information, repeat it back to the head human, and then are graded on how well they regurgitate that memorized information later on. Altogether, a very caveman concept, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited to see the dynamic in person.

I see the lovely Elena first.

Her eyes are wide on mine and Rebekah's forms as we first enter the classroom, and I hear a sharp intake of breath as well as a jump in her heart rate while we strut further in.

That's strange. Is she frightened of me?

_Well, I am a vampire. That would make sense._

Or it might have something to do with me walking in with Rebekah, Klaus' sister.

_Hm._

We've happened to walk in directly as the instructor has started class, but you can't really be bothered with the teenage-centered embarrassment of making a scene when you're over three hundred years old. Rebekah must've been listening to him speak before I had, because she responds to whatever the handsome man has said with, "What about the Vikings?"

Glancing around the classroom, I'm greeted by a few other familiar faces: Bonnie, Tyler, Caroline, and.. ugh, Stefan. I don't know why, but I see Rebekah tense ever so slightly when she spots Stefan; something flashing in her eyes as if seeing him made her happy, sad, and very bitter all at once.

At least, until she catches sight of Elena, that is.

That brief show of emotion washes away like it wasn't even there; instead being replaced with a sickly sweet smile on her pretty face, brow arched in perceived superiority.

She struts into her seat first, in the front row, and I see that I can either sit to her left or sit in the back. Quickly deciding to stay where the drama would be, I slip into the seat besides Rebekah with a friendly smile to the rest of my fellow classmates as the teacher continues to prattle on about how there's no conclusive evidence to suggest that Vikings discovered the Americas first.

Finally, the teacher's brain catches up to him as he slowly stops speaking, setting down his papers momentarily to really get a good look at the pair of us.

"Well, I don't know you two. Who are you?" He asks, and I briefly wonder if all human high school teachers are that handsome. Rebekah gestures a hand towards me in an offer to introduce myself first, and I gladly take it.

"Eleanor Maddox," I say, folding my hands primly in the top of the desk, and I can feel the good old southern charm already working the rest of my classmates in my favor. "Pleased to meet you."

Gesturing then back to Rebekah, she smiles a bit more genuinely before introducing herself.

"My name's Rebekah. I'm new," she replies. "And history's my _favorite_ subject."

The group who I had met on friendly terms with just twenty-four hours ago was now looking at me and Rebekah as if we were bold to even be standing in their school.

_Well, she's lucky that her life is a favor to Damon. She seems a bit annoying._

_*_

I had been summoned to pick up some materials from Mrs. Driver before gym class. I'm so lucky that I had tucked an extra set of workout gear in the back of my car, otherwise I would've been plum out of luck and had to wear the disgusting lost-and-found clothes.

There was a _sweat stain_ on the crotch of a pair of sweats in that closet.

_Ugh._

My nose curled up in disgust at the memory, I'm once again more than glad that I'm lacing up my own sneakers rather than someone else's. The girls' locker room is a wild wasteland of Body Fantasy perfume and gossip; a proverbial hotbed of the lowest but the most fun form of communication of talking behind someone's back.

As girls pulled on their sports bras and shorts, they conversed back in forth the darkest secrets the human part of this town had to offer. _What was that?_ Stacy Hinkhouse gave Reggie Fowler a blow job in the janitor's closet? _The **scandal.**_

And whilst this toxic swirl of drama is circulated amongst the girls' locker room, Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline just _stared_. I could feel their gazes on mine and Rebekah's backs as we spoke to one another, hot and suspicious about whatever we said. _I guess Damon must not have told them about my coming._

Chancing a look at Rebekah as the girls start to file out of the locker room, I see that not only is she also fully aware of their gawking, she _loves_ it.

It's obvious in the upward smug tilt of her pouty lips as she ties her hair in a quick ponytail. There's a glint of mischief in her blue eyes, and I see the Regina George of her personality in full flux. It's quite amusing, and watching her tear into those around her was also informative in a way, and I felt like I was constantly learning around her.

It gave me a small insight into the type of vampiress that Rebekah Mikaelson was: brutal, swift, and with a biting sense of sarcasm.

We both strut onto the field, her in a pair of workout shorts and a pink tank top, and I in a pair of leggings and a sports bra. The obvious stares from the young, pubescent boys is gratifying to say the least, and I can't help but smirk a bit to myself.

I am 325 years old. I have no time to be self conscious, and I let that humble part of myself die quite some time ago.

I _know_ I'm pretty; it's one of my greatest advantages.

Used many times like a well-loved dagger, my seductive techniques are practiced and automatic. It's important to be charming and attractive if you're going to be around for a long time, people don't like keeping you in their circle otherwise. And in the vampire world, not being wanted or useful in a social circle can mean death.

So, I take it in for all that it's worth, the boys' lascivious gazes and the girls' jealous glares, the lovely scent of the fresh grass being torn apart by cleats. I take it in with a smile, because I finally feel like Cher from Clueless. Popular. Visible. Pretty.

It's all a very addictive experience.

Walking up to our coach, the man divides us up based on physical activities that we participate in extracurricularly. As I had no such club, and I certainly wasn't about to go around this school parading as a cheerleader at my age, I was firmly directed to the running portion of the class.

Sometimes, I forget that I need to act human. For example, when all of the other students begin their individual warm-up stretches, I glance around briefly confused at what they're doing before I realize that their muscles can actually _tear_ and get _sore_.

Humans are so _breakable._

Bending down into a forward bend, I decide to take this like I took my training days in Malaysia. Back towards the early 1900s, I was very bored, so I decided to fully divulge myself in the many mysteries and cultures of the world.

One of these adventures had involved a three month-long journey to find myself, deep in the bowels of Malaysia with the elder woman of a decrepit temple. I grinded large stone wheels for grain, fed chickens, salted the earth, etc. it was all a very mortal experience that left me with a stronger sense of self and peace. And so, I slowly slip back into that mindset as I go through my sun salutations, waiting for the coach to instruct us to begin running.

I didn't _truly_ understand the point of running in a loop and measuring the distance, but if that was what the humans wanted from me, I could. Or at least I _could've_, if it wasn't for the large looming shadow over my head.

Glancing up, I slightly frown when I realize it's Stefan.

"Hey there, new girl. Having fun at school?" He asks mockingly, crossing his muscular arms over the thin gray tank top he wore.

"I _was._ At least until someone decided to block my sun," I reply, continuing through the cycle of sun salutations without stopping for his sake. He smirks down at me, like what I'm doing is a challenge, before he moves to besides me, going down into a forward bend at the same time as I do. Our eyes meet, forest green clashing against rich brown, as he mimics my movements.

I quickly get irritated with it.

"Do you not have _any_ other people to bother? Preferably friends? It's difficult to concentrate with your staring."

He gives a short, emotionless bark of laughter, making Elena from earlier glance over at us suspiciously. "Aw, you don't like me, _Elle?_ I thought we could be besties!"

Annoyance flaring at him using Damon's nickname for me, I gladly stand and walk away from the pest when the instructor announces that it's time to start the run. Taking my place in line, I mentally groan when Stefan makes his way through the crowd to shove the guy besides me out of his way, promptly taking his spot.

"Don't be like that, Elle. I know you secretly love my company," he says with a disingenuous smirk.

Rolling my eyes, I don't dignify what he says with a response, instead starting to run when the coach blows his whistle. It's mostly a boring pace that I could speed walk if I wished, but beggars can't be choosers. Can't come into the human high school and get upset that I have to act like them.

Stefan, however, refuses to cease his snarky prattle.

"Are you going to the bonfire tonight?" He asks, matching my pace.

_"Stefan,"_ I groan, and glare at him when he smirks victoriously. "Do you _really_ not have anyone else to talk to about this?"

Pausing, he thinks on it momentarily as we jog together in silence. He spots someone however, ending the ten seconds of bliss.

"Oh, hey! Look, it's my ex-girlfriend. We can go talk to her," he says, grabbing my arm and dragging me forward as he races ahead to where Elena is jogging. _I guess they're exes. So much **drama.**_

Unwillingly following, I feel like a child being pulled along by a speeding parent until we are parked right besides Elena. She's clearly alarmed to see the both of us, me even more so, and her doe eyes widen at our approach.

"Look at _you_ being all fit," Stefan greets as he drags me alongside, and I quickly yank my arm from his as people start to notice our spectacle. Elena promptly ignores him, instead continuing on with her jog.

But, Stefan Salvatore is not that easy to dissuade.

"I was talking to Elle here about it, but are you going to the bonfire, tonight? Sounds like fun, right?"

"Seriously, Stefan. Leave me _alone."_

Elena stops running, glaring at him momentarily before promptly turning 180 degrees in the other direction and starting to jog. I laugh. Stefan is right on her heels, turning back immediately after her, and I heave a sigh of relief that he's leaving _me_ alone.

_Oh, thank Goddess,_ I think as I continue this sluggish jog that humans call 'running.' But, the moment is short-lived as Elena once again enters my peripheral, running _hard_ the opposite way, Stefan swiftly following after like Apollo after a nymph.

_Poor nymph._

This poor thing just had a bad habit of being chased by monsters.

There's a collision of sorts that I hear over by the pair, and I glance over at the trouble as I take the second curve of the lap. Elena appears to have had a head-on collision with a young man, and the young man properly apologizes as his friend approaches. Everything had been going swimmingly, at least until the younger Salvatore shoved the boy to the ground like a douche.

Rolling my eyes as he calls Elena a 'human blood bag', I want to roll my eyes even further back into my skull when she gets extremely offended by the term. He wasn't lying, all humans _are_ human blood bags.

It's nothing personal, darling, it's just food.

It's important to acknowledge where you are on the food chain and try to be polite to the predators above you. We vampires aren't known to be too kind when we feel slighted.

_And god keep you if you manage to piss off a prideful one._

*

Perhaps I should've been more specific.

Because now, _this_ prideful vampiress was getting rather annoyed with the eternal _pest_, Stefan Salvatore. Of course, he wasn't aware that I knew he had been spying on me all day. Frankly, it was rude. At least _ask_ if I'm doing anything suspicious before you go all 'stalker' about it.

My free period of being outside for a bit was being effectively ruined by the prying bastard, finding myself entirely unable to enjoy the book that I had rented from the library specifically for the occasion, _Coraline_ by Neil Gaiman. Slamming the book shut, I glare heatedly into the patch of forest that Stefan thinks he's hiding from me in.

"I'm not usually the type of woman to curse," I call out with a sickly sweet smile towards the deeply forested area, reaching underneath the wooden bench that stood as my seat and taking a sizeable chunk out of it. After a quick glance around for any impressionable humans, I hurl the make-shift stake into the darkness— hoping to dear God that it is a hit, but if not then, _oh well._

Hearing the wet crunch of bones and muscle being torn in the distance, I smile when Stefan groans, but it quickly fades as I hear the familiar sound of removing wood from a wound. _Missed._

Better luck next time.

_"Fuck off, _Stefan. I won't ask twice," I finish, opening back up my book just as a gust of wind blows through my curls. Glancing up, said vampire annoyance is hovering over me in a way that I'd assume would be threatening if I hadn't _just_ impaled him with a piece of a bench.

"Aren't you at all curious why I'm following you?" He asks, thick brow raised in challenge. I roll my eyes at the immature move.

"I'm 325 years old, Stefan. I don't ask why my adversaries do things; I just deal with the problem and have a cocktail afterwards. Besides, who am I to kinkshame?" I ask, my dark eyes narrowing at his form when referencing said 'problem' and making Stefan smirk more at me as he scoffs.

"If you think I _enjoy_ babysitting you and Elena, you couldn't be more wrong. Boss man's orders."

_Boss man? Damon really needs to get around to explaining some of the other things happening besides Klaus._

"_Boss man?_" I ask, sighing as I shove a bookmark in on my last read paragraph, irritated that now I was trapped in this conversation instead because of a lack of information.

"Yeah, you know? _The hybrid?"_ He mocks towards the end, cheap British accent in full-lilt.

_Ah. So this **is** just another Klaus-related issue. _

_Wait, what does he want with me?_

Cocking an eyebrow at the also ironically cocky vampire, I set my book down fully, giving the younger Salvatore my full attention.

"What would Klaus Mikaelson want with a little nobody vampire like me?" I ask faux-innocently, inwardly sort of panicking at the thought that Klaus did know _exactly_ who I was, specifically, the 'me' from before that special drive to Mystic Falls.

The bad 'me.'

Stefan's eyes glint slightly with something akin to amusement, and I couldn't tell whether it was him just being his bothersome self or him actually being aware of my origins. "Well," he taunts, tossing the make-shift wooden stake onto the bench besides me, his blood staining the spot it lands.

"Maybe he just thinks you're _special._ Careful though, he sacrificed Elena because she was special."

Glaring at his tone, I pick up _Coraline_ once again, set on the mission of ending this interaction with no interactions ever afterward.

"Lovely. Go report to your stalker of a boss and leave me alone."

*

_"Rebekah," _I groan, tossing things around in my small duffle and coming back fruitless. Said blonde is laid across my guest bed, flipping through the latest edition of Cosmopolitan that I retrieved so I'd have something to read in the motel room.

Another of my blouses hits the floor, and I collapse with it, falling dramatically to my knees in front of the now useless duffel bag. Pouting up at the blonde, she finally takes pity on me.

"There's no time to shop before the bonfire," she replies in her adorable accent, setting the magazine down before reaching for my arm and promptly dragging me into her room while I remain seated on the floor.

Original strength truly _is_ fascinating.

Dropping me off in front of her guest closet, she sighs over-dramatically as she opens it, scrolling through the many clothes within, "Well, there should be something better than that hideous blouse in here. I'll help you."

My ears perk up at the insult and I playfully glare at her.

"Rudeness isn't a very lovely trait on a woman your age, Rebekah. Lucky for you, I tend to demand that kind of backbone from my friends."

Rebekah pauses her crusade through her closet, glancing down at me with suspicious doll blue eyes. "You consider me your friend?" She asks, and it almost comes off as an insult, like how dare I assume we could be close, but I brush it off.

Rebekah Mikaelson is a very powerful woman in her own right; powerful women tend to not have many friends. People get intimidated.

_I would know._

"Do you not consider me your _bestie,_ Rebekah?" I ask, giggling at the immaturity of the term. She rolls her azure eyes at me, before they narrow in on something in her closet. Quickly grabbing whatever it was off the hanger, I'm assaulted by a sudden blanket of darkness as fabric covers my eyes.

Gently grabbing whatever fabric she's thrown me off of my face, I see a very smug, very 'trying-not-to-laugh' smile spread over Rebekah's pretty face. After narrowing a firm glare at the vampiress, I quickly scan the outfit. And just like everything else I've ever seen Rebekah do, _it's perfect._

I've been pelted by an adorable mini dress, emerald green with a square neck, and _to die for._ She dangles a black, cropped leather jacket from behind her, teasing smile on her face. "Make sure you wear this as well, though. I can't be seen with you if you look like a trollop."

"Oh, Rebekah," I sigh with an amused laugh and a warm smile, holding the adorable clothes to my chest lovingly as she smiles back. "I'm concerned that you're a bit _too_ perfect."

Her smirk turns snarky, blue eyes wax playful, and I feel it in my very bones that this woman might be my platonic soulmate. "You and everyone else, darling," she quips with a superior glint in her gaze as she swipes a red mini-dress from within the closet and struts down to the hall bathroom.

_What a mean girl._

_*_

"Alright, Damon," I sigh as I strut into the classroom in the emerald minidress, noting Elena, Caroline, and Mr. Saltzman with interest when I stop in front of one of the desks and lean back against it. "Eleanor is officially here, what's the emergency?"

"Perfect, now we can get started," Damon says, hopping off of the back wall table that he had perched on and walking closer to the other people in the room.

Elena is clearly very confused at my sudden appearance, and I briefly wonder whether Damon told the poor doppelgänger that I was on her side in this dispute.

"Why is she here, Damon?" She asks, and somehow she manages to make it not come off as rude, but rather deeply concened.

"Elle's an old friend of mine. I asked her if we could borrow her vampire muscle for all this Klaus stuff, so she's here as a favor to _me_," Damon replies nonchalantly, but anyone could tell by the steely look in those blue eyes that he was feeling rather defensive of me. _Aw._

While Mr. Saltzman looks like he's trying not to laugh at Elena's embarrassed face as Elena's large doe eyes widen to comical proportions, her probably realizing that she has been a bit rude to me since I arrived here. "O-oh.."

_It's okay, Elena, I'd be embarrassed, too._

She turns to me looking exceedingly apologetic, but I brush it off with a wave of my hand, "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, 'Lena," I say, her name making my accent thick for some reason when I say it. "You're enemies just seem to enjoy my company for some reason. If I knew the source of the issue, I'd get them to stop."

_Well, not Bekah. _

_Stefan could fuck off whenever, though._

Staring awkwardly before nodding at me with a tight smile, her eyes flit between me and Damon, clearly suspicious of our connection. _Is he dating her? That's both not a very 'Damon' thing to do and also a shame._

_Guess I'll have to find an evening companion elsewhere._

Briefly, a flash of hungry blue eyes appear in my mind, perfectly feral-looking, but I immediately shake my head off the _horrible_ idea. Damon would be beyond upset if I betrayed him like that. My propensity for bad boys would not ruin what I had going on here and now.

Not this time; history of repeated toxic behavior be damned.

This is all a matter of will power. I'm a _strong, independent_ woman, and I will not succumb to my weakness for bad boys because I'm over three hundred years old and a _mature, adult_ woman.

Reaffirmed in my morals, I focus back in on the conversation around me, hopping up and crossing my legs on one of the desks as Elena starts to speak.

"I'll lure Stefan away from the bonfire. Then, when he's distracted—," she's cut off by Mr. Saltzman.

"I'll shoot him," he finishes with a tough-guy cross of his thick, muscular arms. On a serious note, however, this man is too attractive to be a teacher. _Maybe him, then?_ I mentally shake my head once again.

_He's Damon's ally, that's not very **professional** of me._

Were all of the decently attractive men somehow involved in this mess, and logically-speaking, I couldn't have _anyone?_ Because, that was not going to work for me long term.

I'm a monster who happens to value the material things in life, and presumably has several undiagnosed mental ailments; therefore, a lot of my issues are worked out sexually, and if not that, then _violently._ If I wanted things to work here, I'd have to be smart enough to rein myself in and not fuck everything up.

On a lighter note, however, my ears perk up eagerly at the mention of the potential murder of Stefan Salvatore. Raising an eyebrow as I lean back on my hands a bit, the question is out before I even have time to really think about it.

"We're going to murder _Stefan?"_ I ask, slow smile growing on my face before I wink at Damon playfully, "Thank goddess, you've come to your senses after all these years, Damon."

He rolls those big blue eyes, clearly not amused at my suggestion. "Oh, shut up, Elle. He's just going on a detox."

_Oh, I see, they're trying to get him to flip the switch and drink animal blood again._

I hate to say it, but if Damon had assisted his brother in controlling his hunger in the first place, or _ever_ in their mutual eternal existence, this wouldn't be as serious of a problem. It's funny how things can come back to bite you in the behind like that.

"Well, as long as it hurts Stefan, I don't mind assisting. What do you need me to do?"

_*****_

_**A/n: Hi, Everyone! I hope you've enjoyed the chapter. This book might not be updated as quickly as AGTSTVD, but I promise to be consistent in the updates for this series in particular. Hope you all have a great day!**_

_*****_


	4. Four

"You put up walls so high that only the crazy would climb them to be with you. Well, here I am."

—K.K. Meade

———

**Chapter Four**

_Cremations and Homecomings_

———

Blowing and popping the watermelon chewing gum dancing across my tongue, I drum my fingers on Ric's steering wheel as alternative rock slowly croons from the speakers of his running car. Amusedly, I think about how Damon snapped Tyler's neck earlier; the poor sap finding himself to not only be the very first created hybrid, but also to be the very first created and _sired _hybrid.

Since I was not trusted to be around Rebekah during the mission, I was relegated to Stefan-transport-duty, much to my dismay, so I was waiting for the pair to come back with the imbecile's corpse.

_Is that gasoline I smell?_ I briefly ask myself.

Must be from the bonfire. Major bummer that I missed that.

Unlocking the car doors as I hear their stuttered footsteps get close, I promptly hop out of the car as Ric and Elena drag Stefan towards the vehicle and open the trunk. Helping the two weak humans out, I heft Stefan into the back seat with an arm as Ric and Elena take a breath of air. After a moment, the doppelgänger moves to sit in the passenger's side as I go back to the driver's, her turning back towards Stefan's unconscious form laid across the lowered back seatsonce we're settled.

Closing the back hatch, Ric moves up to the driver's side window to tell me something, but when I move to open the window, it doesn't work. Like, at all. Frowning briefly, I proceed to press several buttons, Elena looking over at me in confusion when I move to try and jiggle the door handle itself urgently, slightly alarmed when it doesn't open but instead snaps off with my vampire strength.

When Elena and Ric realize that I can't open the door, they both have different reactions to different things.

While Elena proceeds to start trying to open her side of the car with increasing levels of panic, Alaric turns his head to the right, his eyes nearly popping out of his sockets, and that's when I see the first few licks of flames climbing up the back tires. Eyes widening in surprise, I squeal in surprise at the temperature inside the car increasing at an accelerated rate, the flames licking up the back of the car like there's... _gasoline_ on it.

Whoopsie.

Alright, I'm woman enough to acknowledge it. Our deaths _might've_ been on my shoulders.

The flames have licked up both sides of the vehicle unreasonably fast making me move to drag Elena to the back where I could kick open the trunk and get her and Stefan out at once. There's an unnatural yank on my hair from nowhere, bashing the back of my head back against the windshield.

I'm officially panicking because a goddamned _invisible_ force just pulled out a clump of my hair in order to halt our escape. Alaric is panicking because he can't continue to get through the wall of fire to very helpfully yell at us to open the magically-locked doors. Elena is panicking because, not only has she also seen said-magical force drag me like a rag doll, she simultaneously spots Stefan blearily waking up in the quickly roasting backseat as well.

A red glow has overtaken the car as Stefan wakes up fully, asking what's going on, and all-around still being useless until I snap at him while struggling against the force.

"Stefan!" I growl over the sound of roaring flames, and his clueless green eyes snap to mine. "Unless you feel like spit-roasting in here, get a _goddamned_ move on!"

Groaning, Stefan throws his leg out at the back hatch door, firmly kicking it off its hinges before helpfully laying back on the floorboard. The force holding me back is suddenly removed, like someone pulling off a blanket, and I quickly scramble to catch up with Elena into the backseat and out of the trunk, catching my breath in time to turn and see Stefan still in the quickly burning trunk.

"If it's a vote, I say we leave him," I say breezily as I watch the embers consume the car, seeing Elena's head snap towards me in disbelief before she moves to heft the young Salvatore out of the back of the burning vehicle.

I'm glad that I decided not to volunteer mine.

That night, Damon conveniently forgets to inform me on what exactly I'm to be helping with.

———

_"Rebekah,"_ I groan four days later, leaning my leather jacket-coated shoulder against the locker besides hers with puppy dog eyes as she gives me a frosty glare.

"You _know _I'm sorry about the bonfire! Damon had something he needed me to do," I whine childishly, attempting to wear down her frigid defenses. She had been rather cold to me since that evening, rather set on being upset with me for not accompanying her at the last minute. Rebekah Mikaelson narrows her sapphire-blue eyes at me as her blonde ponytail whips in parallel with her closing locker door, all sass in her pink cardigan, white undershirt, and jeans.

"You _know_ I love Stefan," she growls out, "You're lucky I don't rip your heart from your small chest."

Gasping in offense, my mouth drops at the insult, subconsciously looking at my chest.

"I told you that in _confidence!"_ I whisper-yell at her, self-consciously crossing my arms over the blue crop-top beneath the jacket in an effort to soothe my ego. "And besides," I continue, cocking a hand on my hip when she crosses her arms, glowering at me, "The sooner Stefan goes 'prodigal son' and comes back to his sweet, downer self; the sooner you and him can get to reconnecting and have him dropping that mousy low-budget third installment."

I can see her fight a smile on her pretty face at the insult to the doppelgänger, licking her glossed lips in an effort to hide it. Twisting her face slightly in thought to make me squirm, she finally rolls her doll-like eyes.

_"Fine. _I'll forgive you just this once, since you were being loyal," she says with a superior tilt of her chin, and I know a small part of her is being both teasing and high-maintenance.

"But, don't push your luck, Eleanor. We Mikaelsons are not known for our mercy, _or _for giving secondchances," Rebekah adds, and I roll my eyes at the threat-posturing, like I have any intention to do anything to her family.

"Uh huh. _Okay,_ Rebekah," I say in what she likes to call my 'Southern Bitch Accent.' Apparently, it's sugary-sweet, but extremely patronizing, which I hadn't really noticed until she had pointed it out.

She gives me a rather confused look, like she doesn't understand why I would answer that way, and I briefly wonder why.

Maybe I should've wondered more.

———

"_WHAT?!"_ I yell, standing from my seat on the Salvatore's living room couch in panic. Damon's blue eyes are somewhat narrowed in annoyance at my reaction, like I _shouldn't_ be reacting this way, and, quite frankly, it makes me want to beat the crap out of him.

I had been fully informed on just how dangerous Damon's favor was, and just how much it would cost me. A hybrid? An Original _hybrid?! _What were they _thinking?!_

This isn't some vampire nest that can be wiped out easily with a couple of high noons— these are _the_ Original vampires. Literally the beginning of our entire race spanning back over a thousand years. Who _knew _what the ramifications would be for trying to kill Klaus Mikaelson, whether you succeeded _or _failed.

Failure would result in the obvious: Klaus Mikaelson wanting your head, and the heads of all of your loved ones on his wall. It was obvious in the way he behaved at the gym that the man had quite an ego, and any slight to it would result in him lashing out for god-knows-how-long. Success, on the other hand, would most likely result in an even greater lash out from the rest of his family, who, even if what Damon said about Klaus staking them was true, would most likely want brutal, Viking-style revenge for their fallen brother.

As much as it annoys me to say, Damon would do the same if someone _actually _killed Stefan, and the brothers hadn't been together half as long as the Mikaelson siblings.

This could only end badly.

Not just badly. _Horribly. _

Which is why I was downright pissed that Damon had even called me here in the first place.

Obviously, I had really needed somewhere to go, and I don't particularly care about dying, per say; but what I _do_ care about is being in pain for forever before dying. I haven't experienced much pain in the last century as time has increased my strength, and I don't intend for my death to include torture foreplay.

Messing with Klaus Mikaelson was a sure-fire way for me to be tortured for an extended period of time before a rather painful death, according to Rebekah.

Walking over, I look down at Damon in front of me on the other couch, him returning my look with an amused glint in his eyes. As if he's amused by my reaction to him telling me he's going to die for some brunette floozy.

"Damon, _sugar,"_ I say, pleading with him to see reason as I cup his cheeks affectionately, brown eyes sparkling with immense concern as I look down into the icy blue eyes of my good friend-with-benefits.

"You know I like you. I'm your friend, and I think you are a fantastic man. But you are a _raging_ dumbass. Why, oh _why,_ would you call me here to get Spanish Inquisition'd for a girl with the personality and fashion sense of _Wonder Bread?!_" I finish angrily with a couple light smacks to his cheeks. I wasn't even that upset that it was over some human girl that looked like his ex, but having met Elena, I could very easily say that her personality is equivalent to the personality of a music store standee. He responds with a playful glare, grabbing both of my hands and yanking me forwards onto his lap, pulling my legs to straddle him in my jean shorts.

I pout down at him, not super happy about him changing the subject, but also being quite fond of the new subject.

"Aren't you trying for something with Wonder Bread, Damon?" I ask softly as he moves my hands from his face to his chest, shooting me a wicked smirk as his own hands start to wander up my tanned thighs.

"She's still 'undecided,' so, therefore..," he doesn't finish, instead peppering my neck with slow kisses as his hands fit around my lower back, smooth lips tracing a familiar trail down the column of my throat that he knows makes me smile.

Moving my hands through his raven hair, I let him continue his pleasant kisses along my jaw before sharply tugging back on his locks and making him look at me.

"Damon Salvatore," I call seriously, looking deep enough into his crystalline eyes to know he's feeling lusty and a bit hurt, and sitting close enough on his lap to feel the proof of it. "If you're not serious enough about Elena that you can debate sleeping with me, we shouldn't be risking our necks for the random teenager. That's all I'm saying."

His eyes harden slightly; Damon not really mad at me, but definitely annoyed at me for telling the truth and calling him out.

"And all _I'm_ saying," Damon growls out, one of his hands tangling in the curls at the nape of my neck as the other reaches under my ass and scoots me closer to him, "is that we should stop _saying_ and start _doing_."

When his lips press on mine angrily, I know that it's not really me that he's upset at— it's the truth. And the truth of the matter was, the Salvatore's obsession with Elena Gilbert would get them all killed.

And I also know an ugly truth; that I'm not dying for Elena, the doppelgänger.

So, when Damon nips my bottom lip to make me open my mouth, lowering me down onto the couch, I try to remember it fondly, since I'll miss him. I try to remember Mystic Falls fondly, since I'll miss it despite my short stay.

Too bad I'll miss the dance. Rebekah will have a _fit._

———

It's been a week since I vanished from the town of Mystic Falls, disappearing to the sandy coasts of Myrtle Beach.

I sit alongside the lifeguard stand, it being too cold to be swimming, but very pleasant to read in.

However, not for me.

Huffing, I throw down my crappy romance novel along with my Chanel sunglasses in frustration, glaring at the phone and phone battery sitting besides me under the umbrella.

It had been unceasingly annoying that I continued to feel an actual connection to the town of Mystic Falls, unable to really enjoy any new place in the States— and I had tried three. Of course, I had _said_ that I'd miss the place, but I had meant in the dramatic way you hear people reference with nostalgia in movies. I didn't think I'd _actually_ miss it after the curtain fell; but there I was, on a beach with a sangria in hand, debating whether or not to put the battery back in my phone or flip the switch so I'd quit feeling the incessant prodding of guilt.

What was the big deal with Mystic Falls?

Was it that I felt bad about ditching Damon to deal with saving his doomed heroine on his own?

No. No, I did not. At least not that bad.

Was it that I felt bad for abandoning Rebekah?

...

Okay, yes. _Yes. _It was driving me nuts that I had left prime best friend real estate in that shitty town, alone, right before what was to be our first homecoming together. And all because I was/I am scared of being flayed by her brother for unwittingly helping Elena almost take out his minion, who's also Damon's brother.

Not to mention, today was the day of said homecoming dance?

Jesus Christ, this is a lot of information to take in even a week after the fact.

Rolling my eyes, I groan, finally reaching for the blackberry and putting the battery in, promptly turning it on. The buzzing is immediate, and I have to wait several minutes for the phone to pause, seeing notifications from both Damon and Rebekah blur by at break-neck pace.

After a few moments of scrolling, I read just how _severe _things have gotten since I left, and a very small part of me was very smug at getting out of their before the circus came to town. Apparently, Damon and his old doppelgänger, Katherine, revived Rebekah's desiccated, vampire-hunting Original vampire of a father to kill Klaus. They had Rebekah call him after she discovered that Klaus killed their mother to tell him that Mikael had died, but in reality they were going to spring his abusive dad on him.

Stupid idea.

Damon hadn't messaged me any further on the plan outside of a few 'where r u' texts; but Rebekah _had,_ along with several creatively-insulting names for my cowardice in leaving without a goodbye. Hopefully she would forgive me.

_Well, perhaps she could forgive me if I made it in time for her first dance...?_

With my mind set, I stuff my beach bag with my personal items and leave the beach, walking quickly back to my hotel just as the sun rises. I had a plane to find and catch.

———

Strutting up to Mystic Falls High School in my sequined, white-gold minidress, freshly straightened hair bouncing in a sleek ponytail with each step, my brows furrow in stark confusion when I hear fire engine sirens in the distance. As I approach, my eyes take in the full damage to the high school painted in flashing alarm lights.

Water pours vigorously out of the openings of Mystic Falls High; men in neon jackets carrying warning cones and large hoses into the bowels of the school to clear out more of the water. It was a _mess. _Listening carefully, I hear Tyler Lockwood speaking to Caroline Forbes several feet from me, preparing to explain what in the fresh hell had happened.

"The gym's flooded," Tyler starts, looking serious, "The dance is cancelled."

_What?!_

Pulling out my phone from my clutch, I look down and see that there are no new messages from Rebekah, despite the eight I've sent her since landing in Richmond. She either was really angry with me; she was dealing with this mess; or, the most likely option, _both. _Groaning, I stomp my pumped heel childishly as I grumble, preparing myself to drive home and just apologize to Bekah tomorrow.

At least that is, until I overhear more of their conversation.

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?!" The pretty blonde vampire reasonably whines, pouting up at the werewolf.

"Relax," Tyler says after clearly suppressing an eye roll at his girlfriend, "I've got it taken care of. We can just move the party over to my place."

Caroline angrily spins to glare at him.

"You want our homecoming to be some _kegger?_" Caroline Forbes asks with the same venom I'd expect from Rebekah if she were here to vote on the suggestion.

Tyler's eyes harden on his somewhat uppity girlfriend, and I arch my brow at the difference between this and his usual lovey-dovey, say-yes attitude. "Caroline. It's all we've got," he replies off-handedly, clearly a bit offended at her abhorrence of the idea.

Caroline's own look hardens briefly before she huffs, softening her blue gaze at her boyfriend apologetically as she wraps her arms around his suited shoulders. "Alright. I'm sorry. I'll let everyone know about the change in location, okay?"

He smiles back at her fondly, and I breathe a happy sigh at the sight of young love. It was absolutely adorable. Turning on my nude heel, I turn off into the night to go waste time and drive for another hour before heading to Tyler's, waiting until the party has actually started to make my fashionably late entrance.

Maybe Bekah already was aware of the change of plan and I could just meet her at the Lockwood's huge manor.

———

I have only been to the Lockwood's once, to drop off Caroline and Tyler after Damon snapped his neck for being Klaus' lap dog, but the place was very spiffy.

It met my standards, anyway.

The transformation of not only the house, but also the backyard, into a party hub had not only been dramatic, but also extremely successful, teenagers and many others I didn't recognize crowding the halls and yard. Flashing lights of many colors, red solo cups filled with cheap mixed liquor and beer, and the dizzying continual thrum of bass filtered through the house; and even if it wasn't a homecoming, per say, it was still a very fun new atmosphere altogether.

Albeit, a bit nauseating.

The constant shove of people pushes me down the main hallway, me breaking a boy's pinkie discreetly when his hand wanders a bit far down my ass to move the crowd to where I had some breathing room. Quickly adapting to the new wiggle space, I move to head out to the backyard, where instead of the blade of club hits, an alternative band plays to a large crowd of teens mingled with adults.

_Weird, isn't this just high schoolers?_

Oh well, don't care.

I'm so distracted by the party, I don't notice when someone slinks to my side, watching the crowd alongside me.

"Ooh, the runaway is back. Have fun on your little vacation?" A snide voice says to my right, and an irritated smile works it's way on my cheeks, me knowing full well that my accent is about to be much stronger than usual since I'm annoyed.

"Ain't this just lovely? I finally break down and come back, and the welcoming committee is the resident Original errand boy," I quip, finally turning to look at the pest, "I'm once again reminded that we should've let you burn like a _pig_ in the back of that car. How've you been, Stefan?"

I can't describe the roar of satisfaction that costs my soul when I see the uptick of Stefan's thick brow, clearly at least vaguely irritated even with his humanity off. He steps to square off properly with me, me also turning to face him properly with a fight in the quirk of my smile, eager to take out some irritation and jet lag out on the boy when I'm stopped by another presence at my shoulder.

Lo and behold, there is Tyler Lockwood with a pleasant smile on his face, carrying a case of beer.

"Oh! Eleanor! Rebekah's been looking all over for you. I'm glad you could make it," he warmly greets me, giving a polite head nod to Stefan.

Since the sired boy had become Rebekah's responsibility once Klaus left, Tyler was really the only one of the group besides Damon that I was really privy to, even if we weren't what I'd call friends. Stefan smirks at the jock, turning away from me and slipping back into his emotionless mask.

"Hey, Tyler," the douche greets, placing his hands in his black suit pockets. "Nice party you got here."

"Thanks," Tyler brightly replies, turning to walk away with the case of beer as he finishes, "but I'm not the one throwing it."

Both mine and Stefan's brows furrow in confusion at what he says. _He's not the one throwing it? Then who is?_

"I'm just doing what Klaus wants," Tyler clarifies at our stupefied looks.

...

_Huh. _

"What do you mean?" Stefan asks, trying to be sure of what Tyler was implying.

"It's not a party, man. It's a wake," Tyler cryptically hints, and I quickly understand the twist he's insinuating, my eyes widening as they snap to the stage at the sound of the song ending and a mic crackling.

_That clever bastard._

There, Klaus Mikaelson stood in the spotlight of the stage in his fine black suit, looking once again like the prettiest man I had ever seen. The stage lighting reflected off of him in a particularly ethereal way that would look lovely in a picture, the many lights and shadows of his face beautifully captured in the beam. Stormy blue eyes scan into the crowd, his lips quirking into that mischievous smile of his that I remembered from over a week ago as he searches for something.

"Good evening, everyone!" He calls out with his British accent in full flux into the microphone, enjoying his roll as master of the concert. "I want to thank you all for being here with me to celebrate."

He pauses, finally spotting Stefan, but his smirk broadens when he sees me besides him, intrigued by my presence. The eye contact would make my undead heart stutter if I was human, and a small part of me is glad that I can't reveal the weakness.

The fact that Stefan doesn't know that this Machiavellian villain is a walking sin-waiting-to-happen to me is the only comfort I can take from the intense stare down. That primal nature was still there in the hybrid and beating as proudly and as strongly as ever, and I feel a thrill down my spine when I see that he's waving the party on and walking off the stage, en route to me, Stefan, and Tyler.

His stormy blues are scanning my face for something, eyes not leaving mine as he weaves through the partygoers, and I see something intrigued in his gaze.

I can't help it—a small, shy smile warms up my cheeks as he approaches, and I'm rewarded by his smirk growing wider when he sees it, finally reaching us. Klaus breaks the intense hold he has on my gaze, smiling at Stefan and Tyler in greeting.

"Well, hello there. Stefan, Tyler," he greets, the quirk of his lips and button nose somehow making it come off as boyish and charming that he was so relaxed around the Salvatore and hybrid. As the boys both nodded back to him, Tyler leaves with the beer; and I had to admit, it was a bit strange to see Klaus interact with people he could actually tolerate.

it was very sweet, in a way; his old-school celebratory charm that I could pin in timeless characters throughout history, like Jay Gatsby, or maybe even Al Capone and Caesar.

That was a word to describe Klaus Mikaelson: _timeless._ The man could've been a character in any era and blended in; it was just in his manner of speaking. I briefly wonder if this man is a correct descriptor for that 'world-wise' term that I remember one woman in San Francisco using back in '02.

And when that feral blue gaze meets mine again, I can't help but be more curious about the man that is Klaus Mikaelson.

"And hello there, _Eleanor_," goosebumps raise on my skin at how he says my name— like he thinks it's fun to say. "I thought you had left," he finishes with a raise of his blonde brow, challenging me.

Smiling playfully at the fun start to our latest conversation, I blink up innocently at him through my thick lashes.

"Well, you could hardly blame me," i coyly reply, grabbing my hands behind my back with a sway of my hips to one side, catching his gaze flickering down my body before going back to my face, scanning me as if trying to see if I was genuine.

"After all, I was nearly bludgeoned to death for a girl I didn't know until last week. Was even threatened in a most ungentlemanly manner by a brute. You wouldn't _believe_ the stress," I continue with a teasing bat of my eyes, earning an amused chuckle from the hybrid and an eye roll from the Salvatore as I hum mock-thoughtfully, "I'm a southern belle at heart, Mr. Mikaelson. The way I was raised just cannot tolerate rudeness, so I left for a brief spell. I'm sure you would _never_ treat me that way; now would you?"

His eyes nearly glow in amusement at my sending the teasing challenge back.

"Not unless it was necessary, love," Klaus affirms, that wicked smirk still on his handsome, scraggly face.

Stefan laughs sardonically, interrupting.

"Wonderful. I get to be third wheel at school, in my own home, _and_ at the Lockwood's. _Goodie."_

Klaus' gaze doesn't leave mine when he retorts to Stefan, "Well, if you leave Miss Maddox and I to converse, then you wouldn't have to suffer such an injustice against your delicate, recently-single sensibilities."

I blink in surprise, not only at the swift cut down Klaus says, but that he wants to talk with me alone at all. Like I'm even a blip on his Original hybrid radar.

"Gladly," Stefan sighs in relief, turning on his leather heel and quickly walking off in the other direction, leaving me to fend for myself with Klaus Mikaelson.

Turning to fully face the intimidating, but very interesting hybrid, I ignore the pang of guilt that I feel at the brief thought of Damon— shoving it promptly into the back of my mind when Klaus smirks down at me again.

"This is a spectacular party, Mr. Mikaelson. If I had gone to your previous parties, I'd tell you that you had outdone yourself," I compliment, glancing around the large, well-decorated backyard appreciatively before meeting his electric gaze once more.

"Even without knowing if I've actually outdone myself this time?" He asks curiously.

I smile at his inquisitive nature, finding his banter more then pleasant enough to have an enjoyable conversation with. I feel like this situation is probably quite funny from the outside.

A young vampiress is tortured by one of the progenitors of her kind, but released in a moment of mercy from the big, bad hybrid; she finds his manner of speaking as well as everything else so far attractive about him. She also is betraying her good friend, Damon, by crushing on his nemesis.

Ah, there's the crushing twist of guilt.

"Something tells me you make it a point to," I respond with a sheepish shrug, not seeing the way his eyes really hone on me in those few moments as I say it.

Klaus suddenly turns to stand at my side, extending his suit-covered right arm to me with an arch of his aristocratic brow, waiting for me to grab hold. My brows furrow suspiciously at him, unsure if he's just using me as a ploy to get at Damon.

"Don't worry, love," Klaus soothes, his British lilt washing over me like a warm cup of tea on a rainy afternoon, and for a split second, I completely believe him.

For a second.

His grin turns wicked at me, blue eyes glinting playfully as he adds, "I promise, I won't bite."

...

I groan loudly at the terrible pun, rolling my eyes, and I hear him laugh at his own joke, enjoying my misery. The overconfident bastard. Slipping my hand through the crook of his muscular, but lithe arm, I ignore the ceaseless beating of guilt for flirting with my bestie's brother and my other friend's adversary. Instead, I pretend for a brief moment that I had no other connections in this town; just a normal lady out on the town who meets an enthralling young man during her festivities.

"That was _terrible,_ and if you do it again, I'll have no choice but to leave forever," I giggle, enjoying the amused smirk playing on Klaus' very distracting lips.

"Heaven forbid."

"Oh, shut up," I say with a swat on his arm at his biting sarcasm, forgetting exactly _who _this is for a moment before pausing, expecting retaliation when he instead turns to guide me through the party. Klaus' gaze seems a bit guarded if not very intrigued by my presence, like he doesn't quite understand what he's looking at when he looks at me, and I'm confused as to how I still have a head attached to my shoulders.

"You're an enchanting young woman, Miss Maddox," Klaus says after a pause, stormy grey-blue eyes crashing violently deep into my brown; making my heart genuinely feel like it was on a platter for him to devour.

And oddly enough, that sensation I feel around him is the only thing that has ever terrified me about Klaus Mikaelson.

———

**_A/n: Sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoyed, and thank you for all of your comments, favorites, and follows._**

**_———_**


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